Song of Silence
by St. Harridan
Summary: Mayuri realizes too late that she had been there all along.


Written for the **"If you were..." Challenge **for **5 Prompts **on LJ.

**Prompt: **#9 - If I was in pain, I know you'd sing me soothing songs.

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Song of Silence

He always wanted her to sing to him.

He didn't know why he admired her voice so much, he just did. She had the soft, gentle tone of a parent, a nurturing mother, but at the same time filled with a quiet sense of authority that she used only on occasion.

Maybe that was what Mayuri found so appealing about the woman. She was a rather reserved individual, not as talkative as her former schoolmates: the drunkard Kyoraku and his sickly best friend. She knew when to speak, and when she opened her mouth, only words that were of importance were uttered. She had no mind for business that were of little significance, not bothering to waste her time with rubbish, and that was what confused Mayuri.

As he lay in a pool of his own blood, the madman couldn't help but wonder why a woman like her would waste her precious time on trash like him. He considered himself a piece of trash, better to be left alone to rot, because he was now nothing but a figure with nearly half of his body severed.

The war with Aizen had claimed countless lives, and now, in the aftermath, members of the Fourth Division were scanning the battlefield for shinigami in need of medical attention. Maybe it was by sheer luck that Mayuri, who lay amidst corpses of lowly shinigami and arrancar, was found by none other than the captain of the Fourth herself.

If that were the case, then luck must definitely be on his side.

Or was it?

Mayuri wasn't so sure whether having Unohana beside him, healing his torn body as best she could, was a good thing. He could feel himself slipping away, could taste the stench of death on his own bloody tongue.

And yet, Mayuri didn't feel a sense of despair. So what if death was coming for him? He'd embrace it wholeheartedly – or try to fight it. He had faced death far too many times, and always he'd come out alive, though not often in one piece. This situation was so much similar to those many times before, and he was quite certain that he'd make it once again.

It would be like one of those times when he'd curse Nemu for executing the wrong move, thus causing him to lose his arms, and if it were supposedly his own fault, he didn't find it so difficult to put the blame on the young woman.

What he found difficult was how he tried to avoid Unohana's eyes. She had hers concentrated on his wounds, but he, on the other hand, had to fight the urge to look into them. He didn't know why he wanted her to look his way, why he always wished for her eyes to settle upon his own. It would have been enough if she would look at him with eyes that were without the cold distance in them that was present whenever they clashed.

It was funny to think this way. It was even strange, and Mayuri, despite being one of the two lunatics of the Gotei 13 – the other being Zaraki – thought it insane.

Maybe the reason why he started making a mess during his experiments nowadays was how he often resorted to imagining things unrelated to science, namely the melodic voice of the woman singing to him whilst he was in pain. It would wash away the hurt he felt, drown it in their blissful tune.

Following that single thought, that one desire he still possessed even while lying on what was supposedly his death bed, Mayuri longed for her to say something. Anything. She could curse him if she so desired. She could spit at him, scream at him for being such an overconfident bastard.

But all she did was heal him without taking her eyes away from his wounds, silent as ever.

Mayuri wanted to speak, but couldn't given his non-existent tongue. He had been numb throughout, but now, as he felt the anxiety welling up inside of him, pain came crashing over him.

He choked on his own blood, squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Unohana's hands pressing firmer to his side, felt her fingers curl just slightly.

With what little strength that he still had, Mayuri raised a hand, reached out and grasped Unohana's wrist. His nails dug into her skin, piercing deep enough to leave bruises.

Unohana bent down, resting a hand over his as if to soothe him.

Just as Mayuri was about to taste an unknown sentiment, one that so many called despair, her face came into his hazy vision, and that was when he knew that she had been singing to him all this while.

With a self-condescending smirk spread across his face, Mayuri let his eyelids drift to a close. He realized now that he had been the ignorant one, the one without true knowledge of what went on around him, but still, it was too late to reverse all of it.

All Mayuri could do now was allow himself to drown in Unohana's bottomless eyes, listening as her song of silence led him into the next life.


End file.
